


Loss of the Tide

by hedgerowhag



Series: To Be Free [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ben never became Kylo, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Force-Sensitive Hux, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, does anyone even remember this au, the happily ever after but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgerowhag/pseuds/hedgerowhag
Summary: Rey can almost hear the static of the voices as she charges between the ramshackle buildings and ducks between the poles of the wind bowed tents. Breathing heavily, she makes it back to the blockhouse. With vague recollection of which way Hux and Ben took, Rey runs. -- The direct sequel to 'Silence of the Room' which concludes the narrative.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some people had said that they would like to see a sequel to the original fic and it would be a filthy lie to say that i havent been constantly thinking about it
> 
> here are some things that i suggest people take notice of before beginning to read this chapter:  
> 1\. all of the chapters have been typed up except for the very last one (which will be easy to complete) so this fic will **_not_** be ditched  
>  2\. trigger warnings will be appropriately added at the beginnings of chapters to which they apply  
> 3\. ben sees rey as a sibling and treats her as such. i dont want there to be any misunderstandings (besides, she is 16 and he is 26)  
> 4\. im trying to create a work playlist for this that i might make public soon. if anyone has any suggestions for songs, please feel free drop a recommendation  
> 

The storm rises like a swarm on the orange sky. It lifts about the dunes in a haze, seeming to make little progress on its path until you turn away and look over your shoulder, only to realise that it’s on your heels.

According to the collected data regarding Jakku’s weather system, this is by no means the worst storm that has come to cover its surface. It’s barely a breeze compared to the strength of X’us’R’iia that has been claimed to be the cause of the famine in these lands.

Behind him, Ben hears the glass bulbs rattle in the pavilions amid the squawking voices of the waste’s inhabitants. He narrows his eyes and pulls up the rough fabric of the ragged cowl over his mouth and nose as he continues to watch the billows of the storm shadow the sun. Even though he has barely spent a day on Jakku, Ben’s clothes have become almost the same colour as the sand of the dunes.

Tucking the loose fabric into the cowl’s hood, Ben turns around and ducks beneath the shadow of the pavilions where the vendors are frantically packing away their goods. If he spends any more time scouting through the junkyard, the shuttle might not be able to take off, threatening to expose their presence.

Noticing the growing haze of the air, Ben darts through knotted maze of the pavilions and rickety buildings, finding the path to the blockhouse of the concession stand. Two hours prior, Ben had agreed to meet Rey and Hux there after searching through the junkyards for a potential replacement for the shuttle. They are desperate to clear away the traces of the First Order from themselves and avoid attracting unneeded attention that may cause their exposure. The shuttle is their first issue.

As they began to plan their search, Rey had suggested that they try on Jakku; the planet’s lack of anything that might vaguely resemble ‘authority’ gives them the chance to slip away unnoticed and without repercussions for illegally taking hold of a vessel. Hux agreed to it, seeing it as the safest option.

So far, all the available starships hardly qualify as replacement candidates due to their appearance that suggests that they would collapse from one hyperspace jump.

The news taste sour on Ben’s tongue when he approaches the blockhouse. Amongst the scattering civilians, he can see two humanoid figures dressed in heavy drapes of cloth. One wears a jacket of heavy leather that is torn at the cuffs and elbows, light beige fabric is wrapped around their head as scratched goggles shield their eyes.

Beside them stands a taller figure dressed in darker fabrics that hang of their narrow frame like the robe of a monk. In a similar fashion, drapes of cloth have been wrapped around their head beneath their hood where dusty goggles peek out. Once, that cloth had been black and finely pressed, but now it appears tattered and more brown than a streak of midnight.

Ben yanks off his mask as he comes to stand before the two figures. With a heavy shrug of his shoulders he says, “No luck. We will have to leave and search somewhere else. This junkyard is hopeless.”

A sudden blow of the wind batters against the roof of the building behind the gathered causing them to look up. The slates of metal waver but do not budge. 

“We can’t leave today,” says the smaller figure. “By the time we get to the shuttle the storm will be on us and the wind will stop us from taking off.”  

“Seems we have wasted the day,” says the other. They lift their hands up and guide the goggles away from their eyes before tucking down the lower half of the mask, revealing Hux’s pale eyes and ashen face.

While the company travelled toward Jakku, they made stops in the spaceports of colonised planets and moons in order to try and make contact with the Resistance. They had hoped that they would be able help them escape the potential pursuit of the First Order. So far, there has been no such luck.

Paranoid by the thought of their enemies gaining on them, Hux had insisted on changing appearance: His hair has become overgrown and unkempt while his face has been persistently shaven bare. His clothes have lost their stoic sharpness, providing indistinct disguise from any onlookers who might think they had spotted the the bastard son of the Arkanis Academy commandant. 

Instead, they see a ragged, faceless traveller without origin or destination.

Hux watches the gradient of dying sunlight stream across the sky with a grim expression. “If we have to stay here, we may as well make the best of what light we have.”

Their smaller companion lifts away their goggles exposing Rey’s peering eyes. “I’ll make another round; in case we have missed something or someone has landed.”

Hux nods. “Once you have finished get back to the shuttle. We will spend the night here. Ben and I will ask the vendors about any ships coming in tomorrow.”

With that, Hux replaces his mask and nods to Ben to follow. As Rey remains standing beside the blockhouse the pair quickly become consumed by the haze of the oncoming storm.

Ever since Rey had woken up on board of the shuttle, she had been anxious to return to Jakku. She isn’t sure how many days have passed since she had left the walls of the citadel. Everything is a bright blur of the irregular days on the surfaces of different planets and moons, the bright streaks of stars as the ship entered hyperspace.

She wonders if her home has been covered entirely by sand. Rey will always know the path, but it may take a while for her to clear the hatch of the sand. Unless, it has been raided by the scavengers who had assumed she isn’t returning and is no longer there to protect her patch of ground.

Rey pulls her goggles over her eyes and begins to trudge in the other direction. She pulls up the collar of her coat when a gust of wind yanks it down her shoulders. The buttons had been lost and the buckles torn off, but Rey loves this coat. She saw it at a stall of scrap leather on some moon she can’t remember the name of. The stall was covered in pieces of leather, sold for reuse – pointless for anything else.

Mesmerised by the buttery gleam of the coat’s leather under the sun, Rey had brushed her fingers over it, feeling it dent beneath the weight of her hand. Moments later, the owner of the stall had barked at her to get away. They had assumed that she is a thieving orphan. She was about to skulk away when Hux appeared at her back, picked up the jacket under the furious eyes of the vendor, dropped it on Rey’s shoulders and simply walked away with her under his arm.

Rey vows that she will look after the jacket and keep it from becoming too scuffed by the sand when she returns to scavenging out in the wastes.

Rey wonders if it had been sheer luck that Ben and Hux had accepted her idea to come to Jakku to scout for potential transport. Or perhaps one of them had understood her need to return, allowing her the chance to run home.

Finally, she has been allowed the slip to loose of Ben and Hux and find her way back home. Rey had been so anxious to leave that she couldn’t help but become lost in her own thoughts as Hux led her around while he asked the civilians of the Niima outpost for information that might help in his search.

While Rey had remained masked, nobody seemed to recognise her and she had been treated just yet another visitor to the outpost. She wonders how some might respond when they discover that she is still alive.

With every step that Rey takes between the pavilions, her pace becomes quicker until she is bursting into a run. Maybe someone had seen her parents return and they asked for her. Maybe there is a message waiting for her.

Lost in her thoughts, Rey squeezes between the walls of two scrap houses and stumbles out onto the border of the open sand dunes. Her boots dip into the sand, picking up spray behind her as she runs, arms swinging wildly.

Giddy, wild laughter pitches out of her throat, muffled by the fabric wrapped around her face. She thought that she would never feel the buffeting of a sand storm again, hauling her off her feet. Rey had assumed she would see her end in the black chamber as a voice crawled inside her head, whispering awful nightmares.

Once, she would have done anything to never see the orange evening sky of Jakku again. But now Rey would kiss it if she could.

With laughter still pulling at her lips, Rey charges across the flat sands, impatient to find her way home. She takes three wide paces, fighting against the push of the wind, when she notices something at left of the sand planes.

On the border of the outpost, there are moored starships. They are either for sale, collected for scrap, or belong to the travellers that stop for fuel. Amongst them stands the command shuttle on which Rey, Ben and Hux had arrived. Only its hazy outline is visible as Rey squints through the billows of wind that carry the weight of the stand. However, it is clear as starlight that beside it stand figures clothed in white.

Rey halts, her feet becoming buried in the sand. With the wind blowing against her chest, tugging at the wrappings of fabric around her head, she watches the figures turn. Eyes of pitch stare back at her. Hands point. Blasters are raised.

A yelp catches in Rey’s throat.

They have been found.

A spray of sand rises behind Rey as she turns back toward the outpost, stumbling and pushing herself back up as she begins to run.

Rey can almost hear the static of the voices as she charges between the ramshackle buildings and ducks between the poles of the wind bowed tents. Breathing heavily, she makes it back to the blockhouse. With vague recollection of which way Hux and Ben took, Rey runs.

She has no intention of returning to the First Order, even if it means that she must abandon her hopes of returning to her parents.

With the sand thick in the air, Rey mistakes every figure for Ben or Hux. She almost resorts to shouting for them but the sound is carried away by the wind. Chasing shadows, Rey runs beneath the shelter of pavilions and out onto the other side of the outpost, tripping over the walls of a watering hole.

How could she have missed them? She hasn’t been away for long enough for them to start walking back toward the shuttle. Unless… They have already been captured?

With the thoughts hurtling through her mind, Rey stumbles backward – facing the outpost as the wind pummels her back. She doesn’t notice when a hunched figure appears behind her from the haze of the standstorm, walking with the currents of the wind.

A grunt of surprise pushes out of Rey’s chest when hands take hold of her shoulders. Scowling, she throws back and elbow. The attacker lurches out of the way and Rey widens her stance and spins around, fists clenched.

“Stop!” shouts the attacker, their voice muffled by bounds of cloth around their face. “It’s me, Ben!”

The words are hard to hear over the howl of the wind, but the moment she recognises her companion, Rey drops her stance.

“Where is Hux?” Rey demands after noticing that she and Ben are alone.

“We decided to split and widen the search,” explains Ben. “Why?”

“I saw Stormtroopers at the shuttle.” A strong gust of wind batters against the companions as fear strikes over Ben.

“We can’t escape!” Rey shouts as she clings onto the masking that shields her from the sandstorm. “They have taken the ship—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ben shakes his head and turns away, beginning to trudge toward the open land of the wastes.

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” cries out Rey as she follows Ben.

“We don’t need that shuttle; I have found another,” Ben shouts over his shoulder.

Rey struggles to see where they are going with the wind pushing against them, forcing them back. It seems they are finally at the centre of the storm because the visibility has been reduced to no more than ten feet.

Ben keeps on walking stubbornly against the wind. Rey wants to tell him to stop; they must go back and find Hux, in case the ‘Troopers have caught him.

However, just as Rey reaches forward to yank Ben back, she sees a shadow loom over them and falls stock still in her stumbling steps. The angles are out of focus in the blur of the sand and the object could be easily mistaken for the loom of rock if not for the expanding wings as if those of a monstrous bird in mid-flight.

When Rey darts to follow Ben under the cove of the shadow, she begins to see the outlines of the landing gear buried in the sand. Unbelieving, Rey finds that she has nothing to say as Ben approaches the belly of the small freighter that stretches over them and finds the control panel to lower the ramp.

“It must have landed just before the storm covered us,” Ben calls over the wind. “I don’t know who it belongs to, but they are clearly not here.”

Rey remains standing frozen behind Ben who begins to ascent the ramp.

“Go and find Hux,” Ben tells her. “We will hide here until the storm passes.”

“What about the ‘Troopers?” Rey asks.

“You’re quicker than them, and cleverer.” There is a smile in Ben’s voice and even though Rey can’t see his face, she has a feeling there is pride written all over his expression. “They will never see you in the storm.”

Standing taller, Rey nods and darts away from the ramp of the freighter, quickly disappearing amid the sand.

For a moment, Ben watches her go. Not for a moment does he second guess sending her out into the storm on her own; Rey has lived on this planet and fought her way to survival - she knows this terrain better than anyone else. By no means she should, but if there is anybody that can brave a storm, it will be her.

Yanking apart his mask, Ben enters the darkness of the ship. There is nothing distinct about the rugged freighter. The crew is absent and no alarms have been triggered. There are no signs of its affiliation and Ben briefly wonders if that the moment they lift the freighter above the storm the First Order insignias will be visible on it flanks. Ben can help but smirk to himself in spite of the gloomy thought.

Entering the cockpit of the ship Ben dusts away the sand that clings on the wrappings of coarse bandages around his hands that form a rough replica of gloves. They have begun to pull apart, woven threads hanging away in matted knots and catching on the buttons of the ship's console.

Spending much of his time as a youth with the young pilots that his father mentored, learning scraps here and there about flying from them, it does not take long for Ben to navigate his way through the unfamiliar controls. He can’t wait for Hux to see what he has found. Finally, the paranoia will slowly begin to lift from him and he will let Ben take care of this shambled company.

The freighter comes alive under Ben’s guidance. He begins to adjust the coordinates when he hears footsteps ascend up the ramp. He does not bother to check who it is, being so anxious to see the look of pleased surprise on Hux’s face.

Ben is about to take the pilot's seat when the cold press of a blaster appears against his neck.

“Who are you and what are you doing on my ship?”

Slowly, Ben lifts up his hands from the controls. He does not explain himself.

“I don’t want to make this any more difficult than it already is,” says the voice behind Ben, “so you will get off this ship or I will force you to.” Ben can hear the clicks of the blaster’s mechanism as the safety is pulled off.

If he applies the Force just right, Ben could make the blaster slip from the stranger’s hand. Guessing by the direction of the voice, the stranger is much shorter than him and unless they have concealed weaponry or armour, he could overpower them.

However, there is no need.

The sound of the blaster falling onto the floor fills the cockpit. There is a confused sound before a heavy body crashes somewhere inside the cabin.

Ben turns and sees the figure of his attacker lying sprawled across the floor, his prone form illuminated by the red of the ignited lightsaber. Above him stands Hux, shadowed by his dark robes.

“If you touch him again,” spits Hux down onto the helpless man, “it will be the last mistake you make.”

“Alright, alright, I wasn’t actually going to do anything,” grunts the man on the floor as he shifts himself onto his elbows. “I just wanted to scare your friend a little.” Staring down the length of the red blade, he reaches up and tugs off his dust mask.

Ben's mouth falls slack when he sees a familiar sharp features and curls of black hair. “Poe?” gasps Ben. He stumbles forward to where Hux holds the pilot prisoner.

Poe snaps around at the sound of his name. His startled eyes widen, catching the sight of Ben against the light streaming through the windshields of the cockpit. He squints, trying to peer through the shadow casted by the heavy cowl.

“Ben?” Poe tries to scramble up but he is halted by the saber hovering dangerous inches away from his neck.

Ben grasps Hux’s arm by the sleeve. “It’s fine,” he says. “I know him.”

There is a tentative look that Hux gives Ben, silent and questioning. When he sees nothing that would cause him doubt, the grimace returns and the saber deactivates.

Ben offers his hand to Poe and pulls him to his feet with ease. Over Poe’s shoulder, Ben sees Rey standing midway up the ramp, her attention is divided between the subsiding whirls of the sandstorm and the stranger who threatens to destroy their relative safety.

“Come inside,” Ben calls to Rey. When Poe turns around, following Ben’s gaze, he sees the girl. Rey frowns at the stranger but after a moment of deliberation, she shuffles into the freighter.

When Poe looks back to Ben, he eyes are filled with relief, hope, confusion. There are a million questions cycling inside his mind, but they are all silenced when Ben wraps his arms around him and pulls him into an embrace.

“There is so much that I need to tell you,” says Ben, “but it’s going to have to wait for now.”

Suddenly, the ground seems to jerk beneath the freighter. The company stumbles apart in the threshold of the cockpit. Rey is looking around with wide eyes as Hux grasps hold of the pommel of his lightsaber.

Something catches Ben’s attention in the view of the windshields as he darts forward. Leaning over the console, he looks through the tides of the oncoming sand. He hears the others follow suit.

Just on the horizon, the dying cloud of black smoke is being torn apart by the wind as sparks of fire fly into the air.

“That’s the end of the shuttle then,” whispers Ben.

“I’m guessing where ever you’ve come from, you came with company on your tail,” Poe says, unable to turn away from the swept remains of the explosion.

“Yes, and believe me they are not much fun,” snaps Hux with an impatient shrill in his voice. “So I would suggest that we get out of here _immediately_.”

“But we can’t!” exclaims Rey, stepping forward. “Not with the storm!” She glances with fear between the men.

“Don’t worry about it, Poe is the best pilot in Resistance. He can handle anything.” Ben smirks at Poe who ducks down under the attention. “Right?"

“Well, when you word it like that—” Poe begins to mumble.

“Enough!” shouts Hux, shacking the cabin into silence. “Are either of you done? Because we need to get out of here before squadrons of Stormtroopers begin to search all the docked ships. Unless any you want to deal with them, I recommend that you—” Hux jabs his finger toward Poe, “—start the engines.”

Poe gives Hux a dubious look but nods and takes the pilot’s seat as the others scramble to their places. With the buckles firmly strapped, the engines power up and Poe is doing the pre-flight checks, trying his best not to cut them short and make a mistake he will regret for the rest of his life.

The freighter groans and rattles as it begins to lift from the surface of Jakku, pushing against the weight of the coursing sandstorm that scrapes against its body. Though the controls are frantically flashing, they seem to be making no progress until the nose of the freighter cants upward.

The freighter’s passengers are pinned back in their seats. The ship begins to shake, creaking dangerously as it forces itself through the oncoming currents of the storm. The sand slashes against the windshields, clawing at the transparisteel.

Like a gasp of fresh air, the freighter suddenly breaks out of the atmosphere, escaping the grasp of the storm.

The starship jolts. The passengers are thrown backward again as the tunnel of hyperspace blurs around the freighter, the light of the streaking stars gliding through the cockpit.

Rey sits with her nails embedded in the armrests. Ben is breathing heavily, still pushed into the seat with his head thrown back. Even Hux seems shaken, his eyes wide and lips in a tight line. The only one who seems to be unaffected by endeavour is Poe: he is adjusting the controls and unbuckling the belt of his seat as if he hadn’t just ripped the ship through a storm.

Something rattles inside the freighter, banging against the durasteel floors.

Rey leans out of her seat, looking down the hallway toward the cabins of the ship. There is a flash of transparisteel and a flicker of lights. Suddenly, the rounded shape of a droid rumbles out toward the cockpit.

Rey startles when she hears Poe exclaim behind her “Beebee!”

The small orange and white droid chirps and rattles forward with determination, looking fearfully at the intruders.

 

Unbuckled, the company has spread throughout the living spaces of the freighter. During the short time that they have had in the calm, the small astromech droid managed to befriend Rey and strategically avoid Hux; he keeps watching it as if he wants to dismantle it mechanism by mechanism to see what makes its round body twitch.

In the meanwhile, Ben and Poe remained in the cockpit. Though no more words have passed between Poe and Hux, he still gives the strange cloaked man cold glances down the corridor. Eventually, Poe disregards his concerns in favour of Ben.

“The General had sent search parties to every known civilised planet in search for you,” says Poe. “We looked for any signs of you everywhere, but you were just—” He gestures at the loss of words. “ _Gone_.” 

“I’m not sure the planet on which I was kept is anything that we knew of,” Ben considers. “I don’t remember much of it. After the ambush— They kept me blind until I was in the cell. And when we escaped… There was just not enough time.”

“ _Who_ took you?”

“The First Order and a Force-user - a Sith.” Ben glances to Hux and Rey who remain distracted by the chirping droid. It comes bumbling over toward Rey who laughs and pats it on the dome head. “They kept us in order to try to convince us to join the dark side.”

“But you managed to escape _. How_?” Poe presses on anxiously. Ben can see how desperate his friend is to find out what has happened to him, to find out about any wounds that he cannot see.

Ben nods toward the communal area. “Hux. He helped me and Rey.”

Poe looks between Ben and the stranger cloaked in black robes who is watching Rey speaking to the droid with an amused look. He seems to be out of words. “But—”

“And why were you on Jakku? In a beat up freighter,” bites in Ben, not letting him continue. He leans forward with his eye narrowed.

Taken aback, Poe leans away. “The General sent me for Luke.” Ben tilts his head in question. “He went to search for you, but he failed. Luke felt that this was all his fault so he went into exile.”

“Sounds like him,” notes Ben, not unkindly.

“Leia thinks there will be war and we will need everyone who is willing to fight. So she sent me on Luke's trail." 

There is a loud yelp from the communal room as electricity zaps.

Both Ben and Poe turn. Through the gap of the corridor they can only see Rey tumbling on one of the couches. Her face is red from her giggles as the round form of the astromech droid races past, disappearing out of view of the corridor.

The droid is followed by the march of boots. Right behind, Hux appears. His face is set in a deep scowl and hands fisted. His robes flash from sight and Rey only laughs harder.

Watching Rey grin through her tears and Hux squabble somewhere behind her, Ben wonders how much longer will this moment of calm last.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone is interested, you can find the WIP work playlist for this fic [here](https://play.spotify.com/user/blessedbytheash/playlist/6Rhd3aW8QHYdRq4hPjy0qf)

Entering realspace, the freighter glides into D’Qar’s atmosphere. The thick canopies of the trees shiver in the wind like the waves of a green sea. Clouds catch on the sharp ridges of the rising mountain spines and split apart like thick clots of cream.

Rey is in the co-pilot’s seat, leaning forward against the console. Her eyes are wide and mouth agape. Most of the planets and moons that she had visited with Ben and Hux as they searched for a safe passage to the Resistance base were covered in the shambles on destroyed ancient buildings, interwoven by corridors of green. She had thought them to be great forests, those tiny scraps of trees. They were nothing compared to this.

Standing beside Poe, Ben watches the horizon for the signs of the base. Without navigation, it takes no effort to become lost on this planet. There are expanses on uncharted lands, unpopulated and untouched by sentient life. Ben had once thought he would never see these green thickets again, so he swallows down every detail that he can gauge from the passing blurs of colour.

“To think,” says a voice behind the gathered, “that the only thing standing between the First Order and the rest of the galaxy are the inhabitants of this measly planet. It is rather shocking.”

“If you have a problem with it, Hux, I’m sure someone will be able to spare you a shuttle,” says Poe without turning away from the view of the horizon.

“I am not complaining.” Hux steps forward to stand beside Ben. “I am rather impressed, actually.”

Ben smirks and nudges Hux. “No need to be so patronising.”

Hux turns, about to bite back when his attention is stolen by Rey’s gasp.

She is staring out onto the horizon before them, her wide eyes transfixed on something hidden between the valleys of the green hills. Ben follows Rey’s gaze, squinting against the broad light of the midday sun. Something glints amid the trees, briefly blinding Ben.

The freighter curves its path, dipping down toward the tree tops. A field of satellites opens below, surrounding the strips of tarmac and the hollows of the hangars. Wind rushes beside the freighter and two Starfighters come into view, soaring above the ship.  

Rey jumps forward from her seat, watching the X-Wings dip out of view and glide down toward the landing strip where the squadrons of soldiers rush by as Starfighters come into mooring.

The freighter seems to hang in the above landing strip as the thrusters work to turn it around before allowing the ship to descend onto the tarmac in a gradual slope.

“It’s good to be home, finally,” sighs Poe as he makes the final landing manoeuvres.

As the freighter glides to a stop on the tarmac, its shadow hanging over the barracks that are burrowed into the earth, masses of Resistance fighters begin to gather around it. There are pilots in their orange jumpsuits, glancing anxiously toward the freighter’s hatch, engineers in their coveralls and officers in finely pressed uniforms amongst the growing masses of colour.

“Now, I’m guessing that you are about to be smothered by over enthusiastic hugs and such,” Poe tells Ben with a casual shrug as he shuts down the ship’s engines. “I will get you a stretcher in case of any cracked ribs.”

Ben is hardly listening as he leans toward the transparisteel to watch the milling crowds below. Some of these people he has only known in brief passing: perhaps they rubbed shoulders once or twice in the corridors, shared a shuttle or took orders together. But after receiving the word from Commander Dameron that Ben Organa has returned, they all came to welcome him.

Mind clouded by thoughts, Ben doesn’t notice Poe leaving to open the hatch – Rey is beside the pilot, excited to see the new planet.

“Ben.”

There is a soft touch on his shoulder.

Ben turns and sees Hux’s face shadowed by the hood of his robes. He is neither scowling nor looking down with a belittling glare but peering at Ben with gentle concern.

“Hux?”

Reaching up, Hux brushes Ben’s hair away from his face, coiling the pieces around his gloved fingers before tucking them back behind Ben’s ears. “Let’s go,” he says and pulls Ben along by his elbow.

The ramp has already been lowered when Ben and Hux approach. When Poe and Rey descend the sound of commotion rises. Ben isn’t sure whether it’s from the nerves or excitement that his hands shake. He has to grasp hold of Hux’s palm to steady himself as he follows Poe and Rey.

The midday sun of D’Qar falls over them. Anxious faces appear, masses of bodies pushing against each other to get a better look.

Ben steps down onto the tarmac, Hux’s hand still clutched in his behind his back. He is trembling.

There is a sudden roar of voices. People rush forward, crying Ben’s name.

He is pulled forward. There are embraces and congratulating shouts. Hux’s hand is no longer in his. Ben’s hair is ruffled, shoulders clutched and back thumped with open palms. Ben can’t help his smile as tears gather in his eyes.

“Welcome back, kid!”

“Glad to see you home!”

“Thank the Maker!”

“We missed you, Ben!”

There is laughter when Ben covers his flushed face with his hands, smiling against his palms. He feels as if he could drown in all these voices and touches that surround him. He wants to envelop himself in them, pushing their voices in the gaps where the whispers once were. He wants their warmth where there once was the cold of steel and emptiness of hunger.

Eventually, the congratulating claps begin to subside and the crowds divide around Ben. He is frantically wiping away the tears from the corners of his eyes, trying to stop the smile that stretches his lips.

When Ben looks from his hands, the world is a blur and all he can see are grinning, overjoyed faces. They are all watching him. Over their shoulders, somewhere by the entrance of a hangar, Ben can see a small figure, barely holding any significance in the commotion of the landing strip. It’s shadowed by an overhang, hidden from the broad light of the sun.

“Mom?” Ben whispers and pushes past the crowded bodies as if they aren’t even there. He does not notice as he stumbles over the cracks of the tarmac, unable to look away from his mother.

So often schooled into empty indifference, Leia struggles to withhold the emotions that roll like a tide over her. She appears numb and unable to meet her son when he comes toward her, trembling and with tears in his eyes.

She almost falls when Ben barrels into her, his large arms wrapped around Leia’s small shoulders. The collar of her jacket becomes damp as her son clutches her.

“M-mom.” Ben tightens his arms around his mother. “Mom?” he whimpers when he does not hear her respond. But then, gentle, small hands cover his shoulders.

“I’m here,” Leia says, her voice shacking. “I’m here, Ben.”

He clings, back bowed and face hidden. When the course had been set on D'Qar, Ben had promised himself that he would not cry, but that seems to be all forgotten. His mother says nothing but soothes his back with gentle circles of her palms.

When Leia pulls away from her son, she wipes away his tears with her thumbs and asks, “It’s really you, Ben. Isn’t it?” Perhaps the words are meant more for her rather than him. “You’ve come back to me.”

Ben nods, his breathing hiccupping. He flinches when his mother pulls him forward into an embrace, rocking from side to side as if he is a little kid again, running to her after scuffing a knee on the gravel. His breathing evens out as his mother hushes him gently.

The ground trembles underfoot as three Starfighters touch down on the strip of tarmac, shooing aside the gathered crowds. Ben recoils from his mother and watches as pilots climb down from the cockpits of their X-Wings. They are calling to each other with confused voices, glancing around for their superiors.

“Has something happened?” Ben asks immediately. 

“No, no,” Leia tries to reassure him. “It’s nothing to be concerned about—”

“Have the patrols found something?” There is panic in Ben’s voice that makes Leia look at him with a pinched expression.

Leia bites down on the inside of her cheek before deciding to speak reluctantly. “We received a distress signal. It was from your ship: the X-Wing that disappeared with you. A squadron was sent to investigate, but when we heard from Dameron that you had been found, I called the pilots back to base.”

“Someone… tried to lure you?”

“I assume so, yes.” Leia watches as the pilots look to her uncertainly from across the landing strip. “We will start an investigation as soon as—”

“General Organa.”

Neither had noticed when Hux had approached from the direction of the gathered crowds around the freighter. He stands just aside from Ben, the hood drawn over his head, his face imperceptible in the shadows.

Leia straightens her posture and holds her hands behind her back. Even with the calm emptiness of her expression, Ben can see the dislike seething from Leia: she appears guarded and prepared for a battle. “Yes, and you are—?” she demands in a clipped tone.

Hux smirks and steps forward between the mother and son. “Armitage Hux.” He gives a bow so light that it could be mistaken for a nod. “I don’t expect you have heard of me.”

“No I haven’t.” It’s a lie, the name seems to strike a chord within Leia’s mind, even if she is uncertain where she had heard it before. Ben had learned to read his mother in such a way while he was at her side when she spoke to senators at assemblies on Hosnian Prime – the Republic’s capital.

“Well, never mind,” Hux continues, unfazed by the General’s coldness, “I overheard – if you pardon me – that you intercepted the distress signal I had sent from your son’s ship before escaping from our imprisonment.”

Ben’s eyes widen. He sees his mother tense beside him. “What?” he snaps.

Hux smiles to him. “I thought it wise to leave so sort of a marker that if needed we will be able to find the location of the citadel again. Your ship was still in Snoke’s holding, so I decided to use it, hoping the Resistance would receive it. Luckily, the General caught the signal for us.”

“You helped my son escape from—from his captors?” Leia diverted the conversation from the signal, suspicion dripping from her words.

“That is correct.” Hux nods. “And I believe there is much that we need to discuss about certain… _troubles_ that have been emerging in the Unknown Regions.” He smiles sharply from beneath his hood.

There is no need for words to hear the distaste ring in the air around Leia. She doesn’t like this man; she doesn’t like his aloof manner, his secrecy, his shadows. She wants her son safe, she wants to know where he has been. There is no part of Leia that warms at the thought that all her answers lie with this stranger who bears the hilt of a lightsaber at his belt and smirks at her as if she is a meal to be picked apart.

Leia wants to chase this man as far away from her family as possible, but something tells her to hold on. Wait. Listen to what he has to say.

She nods and tells him to follow.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter contains descriptions of eating disorders (events in the past being reflected on). there is nothing graphic, but nevertheless

It’s like watching a tour unfold, the way Jess directs Rey around the dinner tray with her spoon. She is explaining what each of the cups and bowls contain, how the sauces should be used and what should be eaten after what. It’s the sixth consecutive day that this has happened and Rey still follows the directing spoon with bright shining eyes.

Ben is chewing on the prongs of his fork, feeling them click against his teeth as he watches Rey dip into the first portion of her dish. For a moment, the images of her as a child collide with the present. Ben can almost smell the oat cakes that the little girl tried to paw from him as they sat on the grass with their lunch.

Rey always managed to get crumbs in her hair and her hands would be tacky with honey. With a frustrated glare on her chubby face, Rey would try to paw out the crumbs, getting her hair even dirtier in the process. Ben would laugh and brush out the bits of oat for her, getting rid of the matted tangles before tying up the soft brown locks into a row of neat little buns.

The snort of laughter as Rey flicks a chunk of boiled vegetable at Poe distracts Ben and dispels the memories.

The pilots have been telling the young girl about spaceport escapades for the past half an hour, entertaining her with mission stories that Ben had heard the thousandth time over. Sometimes, he leans over and spoils the big crescendo or corrects and inaccuracy. Rey only laughs louder when the pilots scowl.

Ben is watching the puttering maintenance droids clean away the empty trays and suck up the crumbs off the floor when he catches a familiar flash of colour through the transparisteel screen at the end of the mess hall. Ben’s teeth screech across the surface of his fork as he forgets the gathered people around him.

The officers hide him from view like flanking guards but Ben can see the familiar flicker of ginger hair and pale skin. The officers talk to Hux with eager interest, often looking between each other as they gauge on the information they have leeched out of him.

They don’t stop by the mess hall, instead opting to take to the private dining rooms where they have been spending much of their breaks. It had been Leia’s idea at first, dragging Hux away for private audiences in her office in order gain all knowledge she could about the First Order and the Force-user Snoke. But not the events in the citadel, not yet.

Now, Leia has passed the duty onto her officers so they might gain vital data that may help them in the strategic battle planning; Hux is their most valuable asset for he has been on both sides of the waged war that is only due to overspill into reality.

For this very reason, no freedom had been offered to Hux between the rise and fall of the sun as he is helplessly passed from hand to hand, drained of his strength.

Over the past six days Hux and Ben had exchanged no more than sparing words as they passed each other in the corridors and during the medical examination on the second day of their arrival. It had been compulsory, to find out what the effects of their imprisonment had on their bodies.

Out of the three of them, Rey has fared the best: she has been able to regain a healthy body mass and build back up the muscle that she had lost during her starvation. She is still young and resilient.

Ben, however, is considered to have only just begun his road to recovery; his body has diminished significantly during the time he had tried to end himself by refusing food, followed by a liquid diet. He is sure to be fed extra portions for the healthy softness to return to his body.

But worst of all of them is Hux. He had tried to put it off due to being naturally slighter, with the tall stature and narrow width. But shakiness in his hands and the irregular heartbeat was difficult to put down to anything other than poor health.

Ben knows why Hux has been unable to recover. He had seen it when he passed the opened door of the private dining room where the officers took their dinner. Hux had sat looking into the cup of his drink as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. His plate was barely touched.

Ben had seen it before while they lived in the shuttle.

When they got up and make breakfast at the beginning of their day cycles, Hux would get lost in his thoughts and forget the half chewed food in his mouth. He would just let it sit there on his tongue while his spoon dropped down onto the tray or the packet in his hand become crushed in his unintended fist.

Sometimes, Hux forgot to eat at all. Not that he doesn’t want to it, it’s just that he simply forgets that it is a requirement without the routine of pills being forced into his mouth.

Ben had first noticed it when they were in the midst of the knotted streets of a spaceport on some moon.

They had spent many hours wandering in an almost aimless manner and both Ben and Rey had bought themselves snacks from the stall vendors. But Hux would stand aside until they had been done with their meals, watching the crowds for anything that might risk their safety. Later, his stomach made uneasy noises and he twisted his face and pressed his fist against his belly under the robes, trying to quench the sounds.

So focused on his duty to keep Rey and Ben safe, Hux’s thoughts slid from his empty stomach once aboard the command shuttle, determined to find a safe route to their next destination.

For some time, Ben had managed to help Hux by urging him to eat – even if to try just a little bit of Ben’s own meal.

But now that Ben cannot be by Hux’s side at all times, he sees him fall apart again.

The orange of Hux’s hair slips from under the falling lights of the mess hall and disappears in the shadow of the corridors.

“Whatcha daydreaming about, Benny?”

Ben looks to Jess who is seated across from him. She pulls a devious grin.

“Nothing,” he mutters, trying to return to his meal.

“Oh come on!” Jess groans as the other pilots laugh around her. “Is it some pretty girl you are missing?”

“He is thinking about our secret get away that began the affair,” says someone else in a wistful tone and there is a chorus of snorts.

“No, no!” protests Poe as he holds out his hands across the table as if to halt the others. “I know what it is. It’s my bikini shoot for the Resistance posters.”

There is a ruckus of honking laughter and heaved cackles. Rey’s face has gone red as she clutches her hands over her mouth.

Though Ben knows that this crude humour is a show of concern, it only makes him want to grimace and leave the hall. But instead, he stabs his fork down into the mush of his food and lean back against his seat with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Dammit, Poe. You’ve caught me again,” Ben sighs with resignation.

There is another burst of snickering as Ben gets punched in the shoulder, almost shoving him out from behind the table. He can’t help but grin.

 

 

The weather has been rapidly changing over the D’Qar headquarters, shifting between rain and sunshine as if it can’t decide what it wants. The forests have become flooded and the rivers has been overflowing, turning the earth into a sinking mess of dripping soil.

The storm system is visible as the squadron of Starfighters comes down toward the atmosphere. The clouds churn like soapy water, murky as they swirl down toward the drain that is no more than a imperceptible dip at the centre. The rain hits against the windshields as the X-Wings course through the atmosphere, following the curve of the moon.

“Looks like there is no need to use the ‘fresher today,” Ben hears over the comm. There is laughter that sounds like static.

“Don’t mind me if I don’t join you,” Ben mutters, adjusting the collar of his flight suit. He can almost feel the droid’s, 2C-I’s, distaste for the rain from where it’s plugged into the astromech socket. Ben doesn’t need to look at his console to know that the binary-speak is decoded into a garble of curses.

A strong gust of wind rattles the X-Wing and beneath the press of his helmet Ben can feel the beginning of a headache budding at the centre of his skull.

This is the first time that Ben has been permitted to fly on patrol beyond D’Qar’s atmosphere. It felt surreal and he often forgot that it is not a race to get from one point to the next. It took him a moment to ease back into the rhythmic cooperation of the squadron that talks back and forth, reporting their observations.

By the end of the routine, it felt as if Ben had never been gone.

The squadron eases out of the thick of the storm, avoiding the heavy patches of the turbulence and honing onto the path home. By the time the base comes into view the rain has only gotten heavier, making visibility near impossible.

The tarmac is slippery underneath the landing gear and all the Starfighters make a quick run for the shelter of the hangars. When Ben opens the cockpit into the darkness of the bay, the dry recycled air becomes replaced by the cool humidity of a rainstorm as the sound of the assaulting water drops and the stealing wind floods around him.

Throwing aside his helmet on the flight couch and tugging off his gloves, Ben jumps over the lip of his X-Wing to see that the other pilots are already out, their astromech droids bumbling off on their own path. Ben turns just in time to see his own disgruntled companion waddle off, still burbling gruff words. Ben can’t help his smile.

Claxons sound as the shutters begin to pull over the entrance of the hangar, lights flashing to signal to those inside.

Just at the last moment, when there is no more than a metre of a space between the floor and the shutter, a figure darts through from the pouring rain into the relative dry safety of the bay. Their boots skid across the floor as the shelter of their coat that was held over their heads flops down like a wet rag.

Someone curses, yelling at the intruder to get out of the damn way. The stranger doesn’t bother to respond, instead focusing on shaking the rain off their jacket.

“I will report you for violating safety protocols!” shout the technician as the last inches of the shutter touch down.

The stranger says nothing, brushing their hand through their hair before heading off toward the docked X-Wings. Ben watches them in the murky darkness wander between the ships, curiously eyeing them and ducking under the wings.

“Can I help you?” Ben calls out to the stranger, folding his arms over his chest – his movements restricted by the bulky flight suit.

The intruder flinches and turns. Their face becomes caught in the low ceiling lamps that are spaced in intervals throughout the hangar.

Pale eyes stare at Ben through the shock of red hair that almost appears brown from the dampness of the rain.

“Hux?” Ben’s voice strains with confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Like a frightened wild animal caught in the broad beam of a light, Hux doesn’t seem to know if he wants to run or fight.

A door opens at the end of the bay leading into the barracks. Ben sees the silhouettes of the pilots of his patrol squadron.

“Ben! Are you coming with us?”

Ben squints against the intense light and nods. “Yeah, give me a moment.”

The silhouettes disappear and Ben turns toward Hux to find that he is gone.

Stumbling, Ben turns in a circle around himself, glancing to the shadows that hang at the edges of the bay. “Hux?” he calls out to the darkness.

There is nobody there but him.

 

 

The rain has hardly subsided by the seventh day of the storm. Not many are willing to go outside the barracks as a silence falls over the base, if only for a temporary moment.

Ben can hear the patter of the running rainwater streams from beneath the earth as he sits in his mother’s office with his feet curl underneath him and a blanket dropped over his shoulders. He shivers when the wind breaks against the earth. The cup of tea stings Ben’s hands but he huddles over it, feeling the steam kiss his face.

Leia pulls up the second chair to the one behind her desk and swings her socked feet onto the cushion of the seat, sighing as she slumps down. Taking up her own cup Leia takes a sip, ignoring the way the boiling liquid stings her palate.

As the holoprojectors shut down around Leia’s desk, Ben asks, “so who exactly taught the droids to curse?”

Leia smiles. “They are giving you a tough time?”

“Toosee-Eye has the most colourful speech pattern I’ve ever heard. I’m beginning to wonder if it just hates me.”

Thunder shatters overhead and Ben sighs into his tea.

“I might have to ask Artoo about that droid,” Leia says and sets down her cup before picking up her datapad. “You know he’s usually behind all the mischief.”

As a kid, Ben often spent time with his mother in her office, watching her quietly work into the night and often falling asleep – waking up to his father carrying him off to his room. But the habit went away after Ben joined the Resistance forces as a teenager.

Sitting here, quietly waiting for his mother to finish work, both lulls Ben into calm and sets him on edge; when his mother invited him to her office, he was sure that it’s to finally hear his account of what occurred during his imprisonment. But not a word enquiring about the events passed Leia’s lips.

Ben slurps up his tea as officers pass by the door, their voices rushing by like wind.

Leia looks up from the datapad screen. “We have finally managed to get a message through to your father. His comms must have been blocked the rays of a black hole until he left the dead zone.” Leia smiles to her son. “The last reply I received is that he is on his way home.”

“Tell dad to pick up uncle on the way,” Ben grins into his cup. Though he had been disappointed when he found out that Han wasn’t home, Ben knows that then and again he just needs to disappear after months of growing restless.

They pass into silence again. The corners of the office are filled with shadows as the soft orange and yellow glow of the lamps ebbs from the desk. Leia sets her feet back on the floor as she turns to reach for a datacard.

Ben sets aside his cup on the edge of the desk – half filled – and turns the hanging lampshade, making the shadows flicker and bob on the walls. The storm seems to finally calming outside.

“Mom?”

Leia looks up. “Mm?”

“Why am I here?” Ben halts the flimsi lamp shade with his fingertips, feeling the rough surface of the organic pulp scratching.

“What do you mean?”

“When you asked me to come to your office, did you want to talk about anything?”

Ben’s careful approach seems to be confusing Leia only more. “No—I just wanted to spend some time with you.” Leia puts down her datapad. “What is this about, Ben?”

“I thought you would like to hear about what happened when—when I was away.”

Though the confusion has lifted off Leia, she is just as tense. “Oh Ben. There is no need; I got the all clear and had Hux come here for questioning this morning. I have recorded everything I need.”

Ben stares at his mother, his jaw clenched and eyes set in a hard glare. “What?”

Sensing the change in Ben’s mood, Leia speaks with a soothing tone, “I haven’t been able to ask him about the specific details until he underwent a psychological evaluation and he was considered stable. This morning I got all the information I needed.”

Ben sits up, his feet dropping to the floor. The blanket slips off his shoulders as he sits forward. “You could have just asked me,” he bites out.

“I would never make you relive something like that,” Leia says softly. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“But you would make him?” Ben can no longer withhold the hysteria lodged in his throat as his voice spikes into a shout. “Hux suffered no less than me.”

Leia doesn’t appear to be stricken by Ben’s outburst, being used to such occurrences since he was a child. “You are my son.”

Ben suddenly stands, looming in his full height. “And he is a person with a right to live free of pain.”

“You don’t understand what you are saying,” Leia continues to insist calmly. “Hux is not who you think he is—”

“Are you even _hearing_ yourself?” Ben cries out, thrusting his hands forward as if in a plea. “You are unbelievable. You don’t even know half of what Hux has seen and you force him to relive it and now you are calling him a liar?”

“Ben, you need to—”

“No, _you_ don’t get the right to shut me up.”

“Ben!” Leia slams her hands down on the lacquered surface of the desk, her shoulders tense with rage. “Will you close your mouth and listen!” Her agitated voice shakes Ben out of his tantrum and clamps his mouth shut.

Seeing that her son has finally calmed down, Leia slumps back in her seat, suddenly drained of her strength. She sighs. “You hardly know this man. You don’t know who he is and what he is capable of.”

“Of course I know him,” mutters Ben despite Leia’s glare. “I spent months with him.”

Leia grimaces. “He spent _months_ hiding his true intentions from Snoke. Hux hid the truth even as he was trained by Snoke.” Leia folds her arms and looks up expectantly at Ben. “He could be hiding the truth from you, from all of us. Perhaps he wants to use his Sith powers to bring strength to the Order.”

“ _Sith_?” Ben spits the word as if it is venom. “He would never be on their side.”

“How do you know?” Leia’s tone strikes cold as she narrows her eyes.

“Hux would _never_ turn to the dark side,” Ben insists with anger ignited anew. “He gave up the power Snoke gave him to save me and Rey.” Ben steps forward, leaning over his mother. “He gave up _everything_ for us.”

Leia says nothing as something sets into place in her mind when she sees the unrestrained rage on her son’s face.

“He could be manipulating you.”

“He wouldn’t—”

“You don’t know this, Ben,” Leia interrupts sharply. “He is _Hux_ , the son of an Imperial fanatic.”

“ _No_!” Ben’s hands hit the desk, pushing it forward against Leia by the force of the collision. The monitors tremble and lamps flicker. “I have had enough of this!” shouts Ben, uncaring of his anger. “If it was up to Hux, he would destroy everything and anyone that is part of the dark side or the First Order. He would kill them all.”

“Ben—Please.”

“No.” He steps away from his mother, hands in tight fists. “After everything that Hux has done, he deserves your respect. Not this.” With a tight expression, Ben turns and charges toward the door.

The hinges creak and groan as the door is swung open, coming to crash back in the frame moments later as Ben’s footsteps storm down the hallway.

Leia sighs and sinks in her seat, shoulders sagging and expression dropping.

After a moment of sitting in silence, watching the lamps swing, Leia reaches up and tugs free the pins that held her braid in place.

It unspools from around her head, dropping with a sound _flop_ on her shoulder as the tie comes undone. Leia pulls apart the plat, disconnecting the interwoven strands of greying hair.

“And some said that one day he would be a politician,” mutters Leia to absence in the office.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

As the shifts change for the night, the barracks are almost completely abandoned. Those who linger outside their rooms dart out of the way as Ben charges down the hallways. His mind is still clouded with rage that sets his feet pounding across the floors, disconnected from his thoughts as they guide him who knows where.

Gradually, Ben begins to realise his childish, useless rage toward his own mother. Of course she put her duty before the concern for Hux’s wellbeing; She took the actions of a general, of a politician. Not a friend. Ben should not judge her for this but instead rationalise her decisions and accept what has been done.

Ben knows this, but he can’t help himself as he stops amid an isolated corridor, covers his face with his hands and screams into his palms. All his anger and frustration for his lack of ability to protect Hux spelled out in one agonised syllable.

Doors are opening and hushed voices exchange concerned words. There are eyes on Ben but he does not notice, overwhelmed by his own incompetence and uselessness.

Removing his hands from his eyes, tear streaked, he sees faces watching him. He groans and rushes away from them and the corridors full of doors leading to dark rooms.

The base fleets around Ben until he no longer recognises where he is until he sees a familiar door of faceless metal. It’s the only thing that anchors him in a tide of rage that threatens to sink Ben beneath the surface.

With the scuff of boots Ben stops in front of the door. Nervously, he rubs his hands together – loose of the fists –  as the callous scratching. Ben takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out.

Ben has been slowly losing track of the days that he has been back at the base. Rey has drifted away from him as she falls in step with the Resistance fighters and he becomes pulled away by duties. But they had warmed to each other from their time confined together on the shuttle that stole them away from the citadel and they make sure to greet one another in the corridors – ask how they have been.

But with Hux— He has become a ghost amid the crowds. Their worlds have divided with Ben being carried away with his life as it has been before – amid the pilots, at the heart of the Resistance – and Hux being herded from him like a prisoner, an outsider with no name or title amongst these people.

So far apart from each other, they hardly have been able to share a word.

Or perhaps Hux is no longer interested in seeing Ben as he has shaken away whatever duty he claimed to have to bring Ben and Rey safely to the Resistance.

It takes another long, deep breath for Ben to stop his hands from shaking and lift one fist up and knock against the surface of the door. He immediately steps back.

Ben counts of his breaths, waiting for a sound from within the room. On his eighth swallow of the air, Ben reaches up again and knocks for the second time.

“Hux?” he calls out, close to the surface of the door. “It’s me, Ben.”

The silence rings around Ben, pulling him into a suffocating cocoon where time is uncertain and nauseating.

“Hux?”

The room is silent.

“Hux, are you alright?”

Ben’s heartbeat rises as he presses against the door, trying to gauge out at least the whisper of a breath.

Ben finds the door unlocked as he presses into the release mechanism that allows it to swipe aside. He pauses for a moment when a slim ribbon of black opens beyond.

“I’m going to come in, okay?” Ben asks the silence. “I want to make sure you are alright.”

The door slides aside, smooth as silk slipping into the mechanism of the wall. The void of the darkness gapes before Ben.

He tenses, hands clenching at his sides. It is difficult to see anything beyond; the light of the corridor is hazy, illuminating only the expanse of the floor and strip of a bare wall. Nothing beyond this band of light is visible.

It takes Ben’s fear for Hux’s safety to step inside the room. He half expects to hear he clinking of handcuffs and the scratch of feet against the floor. Perhaps a trembling mutter of pleas.

“Hux?”

His eyes are beginning to adjust to the static of the black when Ben sees the edges of the cot shoved into the corner of the room. There is another door and cabinets that pull from the walls. There is a desk and chairs, placed with clinical neatness.

“Hux?” he repeats only to cut his breath short when he sees the shadow atop of the covers on the cot.

Ben halts at the centre of the small room, watching the faint shift of the occupant’s body as they breathe. There groan as the sleeper turns, their limbs flipping lazy on the mattress to face the inside of the room.

In the dim light falling in from the corridor, Ben can see the shadowed lines of Hux’s features. His lips have dropped open slightly in his sleep and long hair lies tangled over his forehead. His arms clutch tightly over his chest as knees press up.

Ben suddenly feels silly for worrying so much about Hux’s safety. He is just tired and fell into such deep sleep that he didn’t hear Ben knocking. There is nothing wrong with that. Surely.

A small snore bubbles up from Hux’s throat and Ben smiles. When they shared a cabin aboard the command shuttle, Ben would sometimes wake up to the sounds of Hux making small and sudden gasps. Frequently, they weren’t from nightmares but from simple dreams bordering into reality as Hux found himself on the cusp of sleep.

It had always put Ben at ease, seeing Hux so relaxed that he loses himself in the daze of deep sleep.

Stepping forward to the cot, Ben reaches out and combs back the overgrown pieces of hair away from Hux’s face with the brush of his hand. His thumb strokes over Hux’s upturned cheek, tracing the bones beneath.

It’s like an unyielding magnetic pulls, this force that drags Ben forward to press his lips against Hux’s forehead, sighing when he feels the softness of his skin.

In the previous nights that they had shared together, there have been fists colliding with Ben’s chest, arms twisted behind his back, even the choker holds pinning him to the bed. But not once has he faced the shivering glow of the red lightsaber before his throat.

There is hardly time for Ben to respond, to stumble out of reach, and he is only thankful that there is enough sense in Hux’s sleep dazed mind not to execute his intruder.

It’s an odd calm that Ben feels as he watches Hux’s shaken features slacken beneath the light of his own saber. His hair is disarray and teeth are clenched as his eyes try to connect what he sees to what it means.

Moments later, the blade deactivates and Ben hears the hilt drop to the floor, the uneven bumps rattling as it rolls.

There is a hitch breath as clothing rustles and Ben drops to his knees. No longer afraid, Ben reaches forward and gathers his arms around Hux’s figure.

Hands clutch him in return as Hux’s warm breath stutters against Ben’s neck. He says nothing, drawing his palms over Hux’s back, over and over again until the rise and fall of his breath begins to even.

“You okay?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Hux mumbles against Ben’s neck.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  

The fear begins to melt from Hux’s body, leaving him lax in Ben’s arms. The red light of the saber is still flashing behind Ben’s eyelids as he allows himself to drop against Hux’s body, his knees aching on the floor.

“Why are you here?” Ben hears Hux whisper, he sounds vulnerable – so fragile in this quiet moment.

“I wanted to see you,” is all that Ben says.

“After the weeks of avoiding me?”

There is nothing that Ben can say to that. Perhaps he has been making excuse all along just because he is scared that Hux no longer needs him. His mind is a knot of anxiety and all he can reply with is “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Knuckles brush against Ben’s jaw, soothing his cheek. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Ben sighs and follows Hux’s touch, kissing his palm when he lifts away his hand. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Hux takes Ben’s face between his hands and leans down to press a barely present kiss.

Ben smiles against the touch but does not press forward for more. “I can’t let you stay in this room,” he says.

“Why is that?” Hux leans away and looks down at Ben.

“Have you even looked at it? It’s like a prison cell.” The bareness is almost clinical. It is as if faces shielded by white masks will appear at the door and block the light. Ben knows this is not what Hux needs.

“Where else am I supposed to go?”

“You could come to my room.”

There is silence from Hux and his uncertainty is blatant.

Ben gets to his feet and tugs Hux forward by his hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

Ben is met with no resistance as he pulls Hux toward the glow of the corridor lamps. They slip free of the room’s darkness and enter the open hallway.

There is a little groan as Hux frees his hand of Ben to rub his palms over his eyes. When Ben turns around he is startled by Hux’s appearance. His hair is sleep mussed, sticking out in odd angles and pressed to his skull on one side. His pale skin is blotchy with flush and the prints from his pillowcase.

The black tunic and trousers are creased and rumpled: The wide collar has slipped out of place on Hux’s shoulders and the trouser legs have been tugged out from the boots that Hux had worn to bed.

Caught in his stare, Ben nods for Hux to follow and sets off down the corridor.

The barracks change around them, shifting from the new complexes that have been built to expand the base for new recruits. The command rooms are quiet and dark, though officers linger at their posts for the night shift.

Ben leads them down several staircases spiralling into the lower floors of the barracks. There are faint voices coming from the ajar doors of rooms where the occupants remain awake. Ben can hear music and the sound effects of holodramas.

Stepping off the staircase, Ben guides Hux into a narrow corridor. The paint is flaking off the walls and signs are beginning to rust, showing the age of the construction job. The buttons of the keypad are worn away where the numbers of the passcode have been punched innumerable times to enter the room. Ben follows the same pattern without thought.

The lock disengages and Ben walks through into the room, reaching for the control panel at the side of the door to adjust the lights. The yellow lamps give enough low level luminescence to see the soft outlines of the room, pulled in a deep haze of shadows, but not enough to hurt Hux’s eyes.

Ben could never keep the narrow spaced accommodation clean: dirty clothes always end up being scattered around the floor with the odd packets from quick fix food, the retractable closet open from a hasty rummage in the morning. There are peeling posters on the walls that Ben never had the time to remove since his youth. He feels mild embarrassment as he looks at the tacky images of Starfighters.

The door closes behind Hux as he follows Ben through. The initial reluctance seems to have worn away from him as he tugs off his boots and leaves them by the pile of jackets that Ben has been too lazy to clear off the floor after dumping them.

Groggily, Hux walks forward to inspect the cluttered shelves that hang over a desk with several monitors and holoprojectors. His exhaustion is blatant as it takes him a moment to peel back his eyelids with every blink.

Discarding his own boots and shrugging off his jacket, Ben stumbles toward the bed where the covers have been flung aside haphazardly while the pillows hang off the edge.  

“You gonna get some sleep?” asks Ben as he adjusts the covers.

“Mhmm,” Hux agrees. Footsteps shuffle across the floor and Ben feels a warm weight falling against his back.

Ben closes his hands over Hux’s where they rest on his stomach.

“On the bed I mean.” Ben smiles when he feels Hux groan against his shoulder. “Not on me.”

It takes just a nudge from Hux to tip them onto the bed.

When Hux is exhausted with sleep crawling onto him like a beast, it’s easy for him to become open to affection. It’s the reason why as soon as they are on the mattress, Hux curls himself over Ben’s back. His hands are tight around Ben’s chest and legs locked like those of some clingy animal.

“I’ve really missed you,” mutters Hux and Ben suddenly feels hands pawing over his chest, absently tugging at the shirt.

Ben looks over his shoulder. Hux has his eyes closed, his mouth is pressed to the juncture of Ben’s neck, his is breathing deep and warm.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Ben turns in Hux’s arms and leans forward to catch his lips in a kiss. Hux sighs into the touch and his hands fist in Ben’s shirt, pulling him close. Though their movements are lazy, sleep addled, they do not hesitate to bite into each other’s lips, tugging until red blooms.

Hux’s hand untangled from the knotted twists of Hux’s shirt to grasp hold of his face as he eagerly licks into Ben’s mouth. There is a sharp tug in Ben’s hair and he is gasping, back arching.

Their first kiss aboard the shuttle was fuelled by nervous giddiness after escaping the citadel. Both of them were reeling with adrenaline and exhaustion and they had poured all of their relief and joy into that single touch. This is nothing compared to it, but Ben drinks it up like wine. He almost sobs with relief as the taste of Hux’s lips claims him once more.

“Never leave me,” Ben whispers in a delirious moment as they pull apart for breath. “Please, never leave me again.” He never wants to be alone again, he never wants to be without Hux by his side. How could he?

Hux doesn’t reply. His pale eyes search Ben’s face as his reddened lips move over inaudible syllables that he can’t force out of his throat.

“Please?” Ben whimpers.

All that Hux can do is push himself up and lean down to press a warm, claiming kiss to Ben’s lips, shielding him from whatever that may surround them.

When their mouths separate with a slick sound, Ben whines and tries to follow Hux. But he can’t.

“Come here.”

Pulled up by his arms from where he lied, Ben becomes tangled in the covers of the bed and falls forward across Hux who has reclined against the headboard. Laughing, Hux helps Ben up to sit across his thighs.

With a deep flush across his cheeks, Ben steadies himself over Hux who is watching him with a soft smile.

“Are you okay?”

Ben nods, afraid of what could tumble off his tongue. He lifts himself off Hux’s lap to find a comfortable position and leans against Hux’s chest for support.

The stutter of a heartbeat echoes beneath Ben’s hands. It raps staccato in the chamber of Hux’s chest, like he has been running for miles and his body is struggling to keep up. But when Ben looks up, Hux’s face is an image of peace. 

_Thumpthumpthump_. It’s a drum skin that beats the truth beneath Ben’s hands.

Sitting back across Hux’s thighs, Ben leans forward, hands coming to cover Hux’s throat, and kisses him. Hands fall over Ben’s waist, nails digging into the flesh where the fat has started to fill him out again.

“I’m never going to let you go again,” Ben whispers and squeezes his fingers on Hux’s neck, watching as his lips part in a gasp. “Do you understand me?”

Hux seems pained, not by Ben’s hands but his words. He looks at Ben helplessly, for once admitting his own weakness and pleading Ben to take control. It’s so honest and vulnerable that for a moment Ben is afraid to do anything in case he betrays Hux’s trust.

Ben whines with frustration and leans down to kiss Hux between his brows, the bridge of his nose and down to the tip. Thumbs press down on Hux’s jugular when a kiss is placed over his waiting lips. Ben drops his weight over Hux’s thighs and rocks forward until they are chest to chest.

It’s a challenge for Ben to force himself to relax his grip around Hux’s throat in order to reach down and tug at the hem of his tunic, rucking it up to reveal the hollows of his hips and the soft dips of his pale stomach. The ribs are visible but less than the day they broke their shackles. Now, there is defined muscle and faint softness – a sign of improving health.

Smiling, Ben kisses the hollow of Hux’s throat before tugging him free of the tunic, riling up his hair into an inferno of orange that Ben tucks behind Hux’s ears once the tunic has been thrown to the floor.

“Since when did you get so confident?” Hux laughs, breathless and smiling.

“Since you got your hands on me,” Ben whispers back, wasting not a moment to undo his own trousers, prying apart the buckle and ripping down the zip.

It’s not an easy task, Ben freeing himself of pants without consequently tumbling off the bed. But once he is done, it’s not time before he is climbing back over Hux and settling in his lap, bringing the slim hands back onto his waist underneath the shirt.

Ben’s ass is in the cradle of Hux’s hips and he grinds down, finding friction through the rumpled fabric of Hux’s trousers and his own underwear. Ben watches with a growing smile as colour rises on Hux’s pale cheeks and his eyes grow glassy in tandem with the hardness that Ben feels beneath him.

Nails bite into the softness of Ben’s hips, bringing him down harder, slower, until they are both panting and struggling to hold back the sounds that come like wounded whimpers from their throats. A hand pushes under Ben’s shirt, bunching up the soft fabric, revealing the tensed muscles of his abdomen under the low light.

“You look better,” mutters Hux as he circles his fingertips over the pronounced muscles of Ben’s chest.

“Are you trying to say that I used to look _bad_?” Ben laughs, leaning into the hands that explore his body.

“No, it’s just—” Hux swallows and slips his arms around Ben, drawing him in close. “It’s just the first time I saw you, the day I was meant to execute you, you looked— You looked like you were ready to accept death. Now… You look so _alive_.”

Ben listens silently. The hand on his chest comes away and props up his chin. Fingers pry apart his lips. He kisses them.

“If I could, I would keep you like this,” continues Hux, his voice becoming broken and low. “So alive…” His hand cups Ben’s cheek, feeling the feverish flush. “Whole. Happy.” He leans forward and breathes against Ben’s throat. “Mine.” A delicate kiss is placed there and Ben sighs happily.

A bite is delivered in place of the kiss and Ben holds onto Hux as he claims him with bruises that will wrap around his neck like a necklace – a mark that he will happily accept.

It’s inevitable that the rough rolls of hips begin again and Ben knows that they are both too tired, too desperate to do anything that could prolong these wonderful touches.

So, when he is free of possessive hands, he bows down over the side of the bed and from amid the clutter of discarded clothes and forgotten objects, he digs out a clear bottle that he throws toward Hux.

“Were you preparing for this?” Hux’s voice has pitched up slightly, amusement laced in the syllables.

“For dragging you back to my quarters and having my way with you?” Ben asks as he takes his seat on Hux’s lap. “I only wish.”

Hux picks up the bottle and inspects it with a curious smile.

“Stole it from medical, don’t ask,” Ben laughs. He leans over Hux, his chest in Hux’s line of sight, as he pulls down his underwear down toward his thighs and plucks the clear bottle from Hux’s hands.

It’s difficult for Ben to concentrate on spreading the viscous liquid over his fingers while Hux has his mouth latched on the exposed angles of his collarbone. But he forces himself not to think about the sharp teeth worrying his skin or how his cock is beginning to ache, for the sake of reaching behind and pushing his fingers down toward his entrance.

They had never done this before. They have had their hands on each other, seeking pleasure in every and each way except for this. But there is nothing to feel ashamed of, nothing to be hesitant about. They have already seen each other raw and in tears, senseless with rage, and they have seen each other at their best. There really is just no sense in being shy.

Hux covers Ben’s hand with his own as the first finger pushes inside. Ben can feel the excess lubricant slipping down his open thighs, seeping into his yanked down underwear and onto Hux’s trousers, soaking into the fabric. Biting his own lip, Hux guides Ben’s hand, pushing it flush against his ass, index finger buried to the palm.

“How does it feel?” Hux asks, his voice is hoarse.

Ben grins, chewing his bottom lip as he grinds down on his finger, the heat of his and Hux’s hand against his ass.

“Good.” Ben shifts his finger, rubbing the slickness around the inner walls. “So good.” Ben rises up on his haunches as Hux pulls back his hand and with one deep roll of his hips seats himself back down. Like this, he builds a steady rhythm until Hux begins to encourage him to double girth inside of him.

More of the lubricant slips down Ben’s thighs and he is forced to finally get rid of his underwear. He hisses when it scratches against his cock – hard with the thrill of what they are going to do. Ben does not hesitate to sink down onto two of his fingers and begin riding them.

Below him, Hux watches with hunger in his eyes as Ben’s fingers disappear inside his body, glistening in the low light. He seems to be completely unaware of his own dick, pressing up against the seam of his trousers. He is too focused on grinding his palm against Ben’s hand, moving him just so to try and drag out the pleasure just a little longer.

Without the need of a further prompt, forgetting to add more of the lubricant, Ben desperately shoves three fingers inside himself, barely feeling the sting of the sudden stretch. He is high on pleasure, biting through his smile and squeezing his eyes shut as he feels himself lose control.

“Slow down, slow down,” Hux urges, placing both of his hands over Ben’s hips. “There is no hurry,” he says even though his clutch is too tight and breathing too heavy – mirroring Ben’s own laboured heaving.

Ben groans and leans heavily against Hux, forehead against his shoulder, trying to ride out the last few moments on his fingers before he knows he has to stop.

Unable to prolong it for any more, Ben pulls his hand away and grapples to yank down Hux’s trousers. There is laughter ringing in his ears but Ben is hardly able to notice it because he is crushing Hux against the wall with a kiss and fisting his cock in a slick hand. Hux moans into his mouth, hips twitching up as clever fingers tease him.

“Don’t _rush_ ,” Hux says when they part, even though every thought inside his head is echoing a very different phrase. Ben can almost hear it inside his own mind.

Brushing aside Hux’s damp hair, Ben kisses him again – he will never get sick of the taste of him on his tongue – and presses closer on his knees, reaching back around himself to grasp hold of Hux’s cock and position himself over it. It’s absurdly euphoric, the feeling of Hux being pushed inside his body and Ben tries to slow down to savour the feeling because all of a sudden it ends without him ever realising.

Ben’s ass his cradled on Hux’s clothed hips, their feverish skin is pressed together, breath shared. It feels like the galaxy has collapsed inwards and all that is left is this room. This one small room that is their prison of choice.

Choking on a gasp of surprise as Hux bends his legs – changing the angle of Ben’s seat – Ben falls forward and burrows his face in Hux’s hair – whimpering.

Shameless hands explore his body, nails scratching over the skin of his back, pressing into the softness of his hips. Kisses and sweet bites are placed onto Ben’s neck until he is moaning with pleasure again and then he rising off Hux’s lap.

Skin slaps against skin as Ben allows himself to fall back down. Hands clutch onto his ass, spreading the cheeks and urging him back up. Ben complies, steadying himself against Hux’s shoulders. With his eyes closed, burrowed in the sleep tangled ginger hair before him, Ben permits himself to become lost in the sensation of Hux’s cock slipping in and out of his body, stretching himself over and over as his mouth latches onto his throat and chest.

Finally, forgetting his own patience, Hux takes control of Ben’s movements: he grabs hold of Ben’s hips, forcing him to halt midway, and fucks up inside his warm body. All that Ben can do is hold on and moan as his body is used in the most pleasant way, becoming claimed by Hux’s hands that shape him to wring out ecstasy.

One hand rises to clutch the back of Ben’s neck, nails slicing skin. Teeth clamp beneath Ben’s chin and a bruise is stamped there, followed by another. Ben knows he won’t able to cover them beneath his uniform, but he can’t bear to try and tie together a coherent thought as he becomes enveloped in Hux’s arms who seems confident once more of his body – no longer restrained by some dark thoughts Ben can’t pick apart.

Each brush of Hux’s cock inside Ben is like an electric shock that is on the thin line between pleasure and pain. Whimpering, eyes wet, Ben moves against the will of the arm that is braced around his waist – holding him close to Hux. Ignoring the protesting words for him to slow down, Ben takes up a frantic pace until he can’t even close his mouth to stop to drool from dripping down his lips.

Ben rises up in Hux’s lap, hips twitching involuntarily when his shirt is pushed up and teeth latch onto a nipple, laving it with a flat tongue after the bite. He can’t stop the rolls and the thrusts of his hips that are echoed by his breathing. He is so close. So close. So close.

Ben grinds his ass down at the same moment as Hux pushes up and Ben feels his body pulse. He groans as if he is in pain. Everything is hushed, muffled, except for the sound of Ben’s heart thumping through his chest and ringing inside his skull.

When Ben leans back, thighs aching like they have been stung, and opens his eyes he sees Hux looking up at him with awe.

“I didn’t even have to touch you,” Hux says and only then Ben notices that he is playing with the sticky drops of release that are dripping down his stomach.

“I got bored of waiting for you to do something,” lies Ben breathlessly. He feels his face turn red as Hux grins at him because he can see through the weak defence.

Ben leans back onto his hands, wincing when the sweat caked shirt falls back over his chest. It’s the shift that makes him realise that Hux, despite his very calm demeanour, is still hard within him.

Eyes wide, Ben shifts his hips a little from side to side. When the cock inside him pushes against his prostate it’s almost painful and Ben flinches away from the sensation.

Noticing this, Hux taps Ben on his hip. “Come on, off you get.”

But Ben only brushes away his hair and resettles himself comfortably on Hux’s lap, feeling the scratch of his trousers against his ass. With his hands on Hux’s chest, he lifts himself up and before Hux can argue, Ben drops his weight back down.

There are sounds of pleasure and pain, mingling together until they are indiscernible. Ben lifts himself up again, his legs trembling.

“No, no, no!” Hux’s hands scrabble to push Ben away. “Get off! You’ll hurt yourself!”

Hux is silenced when hands shove him into the headboard that rattles against the wall. Lips seal over his own and all Hux can do is moan as Ben begins to ride him again with fluid movements.

Though Ben is physically stronger than Hux, he does not have the same control over the Force. Meaning, should Hux want to, he could overpower Ben within a second. But he wouldn’t not unless it’s absolutely necessary and Ben knows this.

Hux’s features are beginning to colour red and the hue is dripping down onto his bare chest as he pants and bucks underneath Ben’s body that holds him pinned against the wall. Ben doesn’t scold him when Hux almost throws him off with jerks of his legs that he can’t control or winces and hisses when Ben tries to kiss him.

Holding onto the metal frame of the headboard, Hux forces his eyes open. His breath hitches when he sees Ben staring down at him, eyes dark and warm as his red lips hanging open, stupid with lust.

Hux can’t argue anymore, silenced by the intensity of the look that Ben holds him pinned with. His movements are growing sloppy as Ben becomes worn out, he doesn’t even try to hold back the little frustrated whines and groans.

It’s the furious pace and the sheer vulgarity of Ben’s appearance that brings Hux to mindless sob that claws out of his throat as he clutches onto Ben. Held down, Ben feels the pulses fill his body. He waits until Hux falls against him – slack, breathless.

Many long moments pass before either Hux or Ben can force themselves to move. But eventually, with dragging lethargic movements, they untangle from each other’s bodies and fall onto the mattress.

The covers have become bunched and damp with sweat, grossly warm underneath Ben’s feverish skin. He is only half awake to see Hux shake off his trousers and peel back the sheets, hands shacking with exhaustion.

Wordlessly, together, they lie beneath the covers. Ben’s breathing has finally begun to steady. He swallows deeply and curls his arms before his face – crossed over in the mockery of a shield.

Mind dipping somewhere beneath the surface of consciousness, Ben is struggling back into awareness when he feels a hand fall over his own where it lies before his face. Weakly, his fingers curl around the skinny ones, squeezing the protruding bones.

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

The rain eases away as the storm disperses, dwindling into fragments of dark clouds. The water continues to drain into the overflowing rivers, running down toward the vast scars of the oceans.

Inside a little room in the barracks of the Resistance base, Ben sleeps pressed against Hux’s chest with a heartbeat just a breath away – reminding him that this can no longer be stolen from him.

A trill of an alarm from a scattered datapad makes Ben wince. The chilled air stings against his exposed shoulder, making him burrow deeper into the arm that lies limp over him. With his fingertips, Ben pulls up the sheets, wishing away the steady ring.

Finally, a pulse of silence washes over. But before Ben can allow himself to sink back underneath the cover of sleep, the alarm starts up again.

With a grunt of frustration, Ben pushes himself up on his forearms to look over the side of Hux’s prone body to watch the blue screen of the datapad pulse on the floor.

Ben drops his head back onto his arm with a whine of frustration. He looks up. Hux is still sleep unaware, his face disguised under his greasy hair, lips parted in a snore that is no more than a wheeze.

Ben crawls out from under the covers, naked except for the shirt that is clinging onto him from the dried sweat. His clumsy limbs tremble as they are set over Hux, briefly bracketing him under the heft of Ben’s frame as he tries to climb over.

The cold floor bites the bare soles of Ben’s feet as he stumbled after the datapad, anxious to silence it. On his knees Ben reads the messages that skid across the screen. He is being called to a patrol. There is barely an hour for him to dress, eat and report to the bay.

Looking back to Hux, Ben decides against waking him up. Instead, Ben leaves him asleep in the bed as he goes to the ‘fresher and dresses.

Warm air cycles into the room once Ben comes back to adjust the settings, bringing the lights lower and soothing the chill that he had neglected before falling onto the mattress. Pulling the covers to Hux’s chin, Ben kisses him on the temple.

The door closes with a soft click when Ben leaves.

The base is still waking up with a stiff-necked laziness as if it had gone into hibernation during the storm. The mess hall is barely filled when Ben gathers two trays, piling on food in a bleary-eyed state, pawing for what’s warm and hasn’t yet been swept away by the morning rush.

Ben is chewing through a torn half of a savoury pastry that burns his tongue with its filling as he stumbles toward the turbolift – not trusting himself to take the stairs. Technicians join Ben part way through his journey as they come off night shifts, grumbling between each other as they eye the trays.

Ben hears his neighbours waking up as he walks toward his room. He struggles to punch in the passcode, having to balance the food trays in one hand. Ben pushes open the door with his back, entering the dim room and almost tripping over discarded clothing and boots.

Clutter falls onto the floor as the trays are shoved onto a desk. Ben curses as he catches a holoprojector by a wire before it cracks across the floor. Setting it carefully in place, Ben looks over his shoulder at the lumps of covers that lie across his bed.

With the lightsaber safely abandoned in the rooms that had been given to Hux, Ben approaches the sleeping lump sprawled on the mattress.

Sliding his chilled hands across the mattress, Ben slips his hands under the covers, feeling for the skinny ankles of the man curled underneath. With a grin, he waits for the sudden yelp and a flailing kick that tries to get away from the cold grasp of his fingers.

But the mattress comes up empty and Ben stares perplexed at the handfuls of covers that he holds.

Ben drops the sheets to the ground and runs toward the ‘fresher.

“Hux?” he calls out through the doorway, trying to calm himself with the notion that Hux just woke up and had gone on with his morning without Ben.

But the ‘fresher is empty and in the quiet Ben can’t hear footsteps wandering through the small apartment. It’s empty except for Ben.

Backing out of the ‘fresher, Ben notices that one of the closets is open. The hangers stick out at odd angles, ravaged, and clothes have been thrown down onto the floor.

Ben approaches and picks up the disregarded clothing. There are coveralls that he would wear when working on the Starfighters and military uniforms that are only in use during ground operations. They all seem to have been torn down in frustration. Amongst them Ben finds that an old flight suit that had ended up being constantly forgotten in his room is absent.

A datapad blinks awake on the floor, displaying an approved request for Ben’s X-Wing to leave planetside.

Thoughts slam together in a sudden conclusion. Ben is scrambling out of the room, ripping past the door and into the hallway.

People are thrown aside to the rails of the staircase as Ben forces himself through the growing crowds toward the ground surface. The most awful thoughts urge Ben on as he loses his breath and legs begin to hurt from every forced step: had Hux planned this, had he used Ben for his own purpose. Suddenly all of Leia’s warning begin to make sense and Ben blames himself for not listening to her.

Heaving for breath with his cracked throat, Ben runs through the hallways toward the hangars. The morning light is broad and bright as it beams into the bays where the engineers begin their day of protocol inspections.

Ben climbs the steps that lead onto the gangways that connect the hangars and the satellite monitoring stations that are located above, allowing him to pass over the Starfighters and the crowds unnoticed.

Grasping onto the railing, Ben observes the pilots in the individual hangars, squinting to catch the sight of their faces beneath their helmets. With a frustrated grimace Ben storms onwards.

The shutters of a locked bay open and the light blinds Ben, making him stumble. Below, amongst the small silhouettes, he sees his mother walk toward the tarmac of the landing strip. C-3PO is toddling after her, struggling to keep up with Leia’s determined steps.

For a moment Ben considers calling after her, warning that that Hux has escaped. But he catches his thoughts short, dissuading himself from the foolish idea; this is his own problem and he will manage it himself. After all, it’s Ben who has been an idiot.

Passing into the next sector of a hangar where the engineers are preparing an X-Wing for the last procedure of disengaging from the docking equipment, Ben falters. Confused, he realises that it is his own Starfighter.

Leaning over the railing he sees a pilot approach the X-Wing. They are carrying their helmet under their arm and though they seem to be confident with purpose, Ben notices the nervous glances that they throw to the reporting mechanics. They stand aside as the last of the docking gear is removed and the diagnostics are ran.

It's odd, but for some reason that he cannot name, Ben can’t focus on the pilot’s face. His gaze just glances away like water from metal, gliding somewhere off to the side. Shaking his head, Ben forces himself to focus harder. It hurts his skull and his vision blurs, every sense is begging Ben just to look away. But with gritted teeth he bears his eyes on the figure.

After a moment during which Ben was sure his skull would split, the blurring begins to dissipate. Out come the colours of pale ivory and bright auburn that catch in the sun. Someone approaches the pilot and Ben watches perplexed when they notice nothing amiss.

Alone, the pilot approaches the Starfighter and Ben throttles himself toward the stairs that lead down from the spindly gangways. Once on the ground, he forces himself to calm his thundering steps should he startle the escapee.

Only several feet away, barrelling through the commotion, Ben can no longer restrain his anger. He reaches out and grasps Hux by the collar of the flight suit.

Shoved into the side of the X-Wing and its landing gear, Hux struggles, snarling and trying to claw himself free. Twisting himself out of Ben’s hands, he shoves the other man away.

“No. Don’t you dare,” spits Ben, crowding around Hux and closing off his escapes. He knows that people are beginning to stare but they will take this for a fight between pilots, not seeing it for what it really is.

“If you know what is good for you, you will let me go, Ben,” Hux says with an unshaken voice. His cold stare measures down Ben but he can see past it to notice the nervous disarray of Hux’s mind.

“No, I’m not letting you,” sneers Ben with venom as he grasps Hux by his collar and shakes him roughly. “You are not disappearing from me _again_.”

“You don’t understand.” Hux wrenches Ben’s hands away from him, shoving them back toward Ben’s chest. “I must leave. I am not given a choice.”

“ _What_?” Undeterred, Ben looms over Hux who is pressed against the Starfighter once again. “Has someone threatened you? Is that why you are running away?”

Hux stares up at Ben, determined to stand against him. “Don’t be a fool. I am wasting my time here. I can do nothing for the Resistance while spending my hours answering questions of bigots.” Finally, Ben seems to back away as he mulls over the words, permitting Hux to stand straighter. “I need to leave,” he says and turns toward the cockpit.

Shaken out of his stupor, Ben shouts “No, wait!” He yanks Hux back by his arm.

“What?” Hux snaps, impatience painting his face red. “You have already costed me enough time.”

“I will have these people stop you.” Ben points toward the hangar that has grown crowded with the pass of the morning. “They will see that you are escaping and they won’t let you run.” He knows that he is grasping onto the smallest excuse for Hux to stop.

The uncomfortable grin that cracks Hux’s lips splits into a laugh. “Stop me? Why would they? They are all weak minded and I have the Force on my side. You are forgetting yourself, Ben.”

“Then—Then…” Ben stutters, looking uncertainly to the ground, suddenly flustered once he has realised that this is not betrayal – not the type that he had feared when he found his bed empty. “Then I will go with you!”

Hux’s face drops at Ben’s words.

“I’m a good pilot and a good soldier too,” Ben continues, tangling his fingers in the sleeve of the flight suit where his hand is still latched on Hux's arm.

Hux winces, not wanting to see the desperate look on Ben’s face.

“I can help you. Wherever you are going, I can help you. I promise.”

There is a moment of silence as Hux covers Ben’s hand with his own and gently pries it away. “You can’t, Ben. You are volatile and untrained. I trust you, but not in this.”

“No, but—” Ben begins to protest but he is hushed when Hux places a hand on his neck and soothes his jaw with his thumb.

“Stay here,” Hux whispers. The earlier animosity from the fear of betrayal has been washed from Ben and Hux and now they speak with calm words. “Wait for Luke. Look after Rey. It’s for the best.”

“You are running away from me.” Ben sags under Hux’s hands, seeming to not want their comfort.

“From you? Never.” Hux holds Ben by his shoulders, fettering him from drifting away. “If it was up to me, I would stay by your side. But these people do not trust me, they see me as nothing but my name and what I had to do to see us safe. Please Ben, have enough faith in me make things right.”

Ben looks at him doubtful. “Will you ever come back to me?”

“I would tell you if I knew,” Hux sighs. “The Force is not kind to me in some ways.”

“And what if something happens, how will I know—”

“You _will_ know.” Hux grasps Ben harder by his neck, bringing him in closer. “If something happens, you will know, I promise. But please, don’t wait for me, it’s not worth it to you.”

Grimacing, Ben whimpers, “You absolute _idiot_.” He fists his hands in the front of Hux’s flight suit and drags him forward into a sudden kiss. “You absolute, damned idiot,” he gasps against Hux’s lips. “Of course it’s worth it. I will wait for you forever if I have to.” Ben clutches Hux by his hair, keeping him from escaping.

“That is an awful thing of you to say,” Hux laughs but he can’t keep his voice from cracking with the pathetic sob that is gathering in his throat. “So awful.” Despite himself, he kisses Ben again and clings to him in equal measure.

Before Hux can rethink his actions, he pushes Ben back, picks his helmet from the floor and walks away. He does not look back when he climbs into the cockpit of the X-Wing.

Once seated, Hux notices Ben approach – seeming to be scarcely tethered to his composure.

“They will never let you off the planet,” Ben says, reaching up toward the cockpit, “you don’t even know any of the protocols.”

“Then why do you think I have a droid with me?” replies Hux, trying not to look away from the Starfighters console as he engages the engines.

“Huh—?”

As Ben turns he sees the familiar form of a small waddling droid. It whirrs and bleeps with irritation as it becomes connected to the astromech socket of the X-Wing, it’s grey and black casing melding with the skin of the Starfighter.

“Toosee-Eye?” Ben looks up to Hux. “How-How did you—?”

Hux shrugs, strapping his helmet in place. “He told me that he would do anything to get of this wretched, sodden planet. So, I decided to have some pity.” The droid adds nothing to the statement, seeming to be resolute in its mutiny.

“You are all set then,” Ben mutters. His fingers clench uncertainly on the frame of the cockpit as he watches Hux latch together the safety harness.

Hux looks down at Ben through his visor. He is practically unrecognisable under the bright orange and white bulk of the flight gear that hides his body. “No,” he says, “not quite.”

Hux leans out of the cockpit and with his gloved hands he cups Ben’s cheeks and presses a kiss to his hair. “May the Force be with you, Ben,” he whispers and ducks away.

Before Ben can try and halt Hux again, the hatch of the cockpit is closed, cutting him away from the pilot.

The engines hum with furious energy, forcing Ben to step away as the X-Wing drifts out of the bay. He swallows down his urge to chase the Starfighter out onto the landing strip as it enters the pale glow of sunlight.

The transparisteel reflects the sun, blinding Ben as he approaches the threshold of the hangar. Fire spits from the thrusters, propelling the Starfighter toward the tarmac that opens before it as it picks up speed. The nose tilts and it takes little effort for the X-Wing to rise into the brightened skies. It twits as if in joy, newly unshackled and with an undetermined path.

Below, Ben watches the wings of the Starfighter play in the light. It grows smaller and smaller, finer than a speck of dust and then all together, it winks out of space, consumed by the tunnel of an unseen plane.

Ben hopes that in his heart he can believe this is not the end.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man that was some nicholas sparks bs right there. just slap on a poster of two white people holding each other sadly and we are right in business!! anyway, onward to ghost dicking


End file.
